Indulgence
by This Sentimental Heart
Summary: After the devastation of the second wizarding war, Hogwarts is accepting students back to complete their educations. When Professor McGonagall decides to dissolve the four houses, Harry finds himself alienated from his friends. But Harry finds unlikely companionship in the boy who he once regarded as his enemy, and things escalate after Harry agrees to indulge himself.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This takes place several months after the end of book seven and does not comply with the epilogue. Sorry the first chapter is kind of slow and uneventful. I have to start somewhere. Please leave reviews!

Morning light seeped past Draco's unwilling eyelids, welcoming him to the starkness of day. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening as voices mulled about throughout the guest house. His parents had bequeathed the formidable guest cottage on the edge of their property to Draco and his friends for the last few months, which forced Draco to feign constant happiness as everyone watched him. With all of the people who cared so deeply for him living in such immediate proximity it took careful calculation to hide his slowly deepening depression.

Draco exhaled, enjoying his last moment of solitude before he would have to face the day. From the sound of it, his mother was clicking about across the hard wood floors awaiting his appearance. Seeing her would deepen the wound and the guilt. Once again, he would just be reminded that of all the family's that deserved to remain intact, his was one of the few that stayed untouched. This fact was becoming increasingly difficult to live with.

But the reminders would hopefully cease after today. It was September first, and things were about to change.

Refusing to deviate from his regular morning schedule, Harry Potter sat alone, staring at his hands. His flat was small and appeared unlived-in due to the lack of decoration and furniture. There was a couch in what had been deemed the sitting area, and there was a cheap, tea stained table surrounded by mismatched chairs in the middle of his tiny kitchen. The flat was humble and Harry's inheritance from his parents could certainly have afforded him more. But over the last few months he didn't seem to have the energy to want better for himself.

It was nine in the morning and by nine in the morning everyday Harry had already showered and eaten. It was at this point that he always found himself staring blankly at his hands, attempting to rid his mind of the dread that was slowly thinning his sanity. For these few moments he could will himself to believe that time was no longer inching forward and reality didn't truly exist. The weight of consequence and unceasing guilt wouldn't matter for a moment because nothing could be real in this mental vortex he built for himself. But against all of Harry's attempts, time did continue onward and reality continued to bite at him.

Here he was, once again, in his dingy little flat. And nothing had changed.

Except things were about to change. Harry's packed trunk slumped against the ground before him, seemingly glaring back at him with bulging seams for facial features. He noted how strange it was to be heading back to the rigidity and juvenile nature of school after having lived on his own with complete emancipation. But alas, Hogwarts robes were folded, textbooks were purchased, and his pewter cauldron had been nicely polished. It was September first, and Harry would soon be abandoning his flat to return to Hogwarts.

Harry hadn't always planned on living in such a modest flat. When the great burden of the second wizarding war had been lifted from his shoulders, Harry had been filled with optimism and adrenaline towards building a new life. He had always expected to feel this way, and so he tried his best to convince himself that he was excited and happy for once. He made grand plans to buy a house to share with his godson Teddy. Ginny and his friends would move in with them, and they would juggle raising the infant with the several jobs they were bound to be offered at the ministry.

But these plans fell through very quickly. It took several interventions to make Harry realize that he was barely eighteen years old and wasn't ready to put his life on hold to raise a child. This realization had shattered Harry's resolve, and his depression had quickly escalated from there. Hermione had decided to live with her parents for the summer, and Ron and Ginny had offered for Harry to come stay at the Burrow with them, but Harry had refused. Partially from guilt surrounding Fred's death and partially from a fear of having a large family constantly fretting over him. And so came about the small flat that he currently sat in. It was his final day in the tiny living space. Though he had only lived there for three months it seemed like much longer. He'd had many difficult and serious conversations in that cramped kitchen. It was at that table two months ago that Professor McGonagall had sat, looking rather out of place, to explain the current situation at Hogwarts.

_"Last year's education was so fragmented, it's left me with a very difficult decision to make." Said McGonagall. She waited for Harry to respond, but he just watched her silently. She continued. "All students at Hogwarts will be repeating last year. Those who were sixth years last year will yet again be sixth years this year. It's the same for all of the years. But we will be accepting new first years. Needless to say, it will be a very large class of first years." Once again she waited for Harry to say something, but to no avail. "Like I said, it was a tough decision to make. Many parents have expressed their disagreement with it."_

_ "I agree with it." Harry commented. "I think it's the right thing to do." McGonagall couldn't help but express a grin. _

_ "And, of course, those displaced by the war last year will be welcomed back to complete their education."_

_ "Ah." Harry realized. "I see."_

_ "Oh no, do not mistake me. There is no pressure for you to return to Hogwarts. As Headmistress, I'm willing to offer you, Hermione, and Ron honorary graduation. No one can expect you to return." She said. Harry looked down at the table in thought._

_ "I'd like to come back." He said. "It would be nice. Kind of normal." Once again McGonagall was smiling, but not as understatedly as before._

_ "In that case, I'm afraid I have one more decision I need to confide in you, and a favor to ask."_

Several weeks later, a reporter had sat in the exact same chair, asking Harry his thoughts on the Hogwarts decision. Harry claimed he supported it, and his words had emblazoned the front of the Daily Prophet the day the decision was announced. Hermione and Ron had also sat across that table countless times, especially during the several visits that it took for Harry to convince them to return to Hogwarts. And of course, most recently, yesterday Ginny had sat across from him, proudly holding a piece of parchment that she had scribbled across.

_"It's a contract."_ _she explained. "To make sure you are happy this year. The next year is going to be all about indulgence. You are going to indulge yourself Harry, and you are going to like it."_

_ "And what do you mean by 'indulgence?'" he asked while looking across the rudimentary contract._

_ "If someone needs your help with something, but you don't want to help, you're not going to. If you feel like going out and riding your broomstick instead of spending time with me, you're going to do it. If you want to eat an entire cake and everyone around you tells you not to, you're going to do it." She said. Harry gave a small laugh. Seeing him laugh brightened Ginny up immensely. "This is about making you happy. You've spent the last seven years saving the wizarding world, it's time for you to be selfish."_

_ "Well, I'll sign it then." Harry agreed. He picked up the contract and moved to the counter where he spied a forgotten quill. Ginny clapped her hands and stood up as Harry signed his name._

_ "Great. Let's go back to the Burrow. Mum's made a huge feast." She said excitedly. Harry sighed._

_ "Can't we just stay here?" Harry asked. However well the moment had been going, the entire atmosphere darkened._

_ "This is ridiculous. Everyone misses you. How can you just sit around in here every day?" she asked. Harry's patience snapped._

_ "You just made me sign a piece of paper promising that I would indulge myself."_

_ "Yeah, but not like this!"_

_ "Only in ways you like, then? Is that what you're asking for?"_

_ "That's not fair!"_

_ "Okay, Ginny, you need to stop trying to force me to go out and do things I don't want to do! You are empowered, and strong, and I love that about you. But, right now, what I need is someone to just, you know, take care of me, and try to sympathize."_

_ "You need a mother."_

_ "No, stop! Don't twist my words around."_

_ "No, I get what you're saying." Ginny said, calming down. "You're right. I will try to be more understanding. I'm sorry."_

She had left awkwardly, and Harry had promised to meet them at platform nine and three quarters. As he looked to his watch, he saw it was time to leave. It was time to say goodbye to the flat and try to return to some normalcy.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for sticking around for the second chapter! Please, please, please review!

Harry's eyes sat transfixed as the pastoral country side flitted past. The crimson power of the Hogwarts Express snaked its way through Britain. Harry sat with his usual company; Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. The others chatted effortlessly about the year to follow while Harry remained silent as he absently twirled a small, folded piece of parchment in his hand.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, suddenly breaking the invisible wall Harry had encapsulated himself in. He looked up surprised before realizing she was looking at the folded parchment.

"It's a speech McGonagall wants me to give." He explained.

"In front of the whole school?" Hermione asked. He nodded. The girls both looked excited at this prospect. "Can I read it?" Hermione wondered. Harry tightened his grip defensively.

"Um," he began. "There's something in it that's kind of classified."

"Ah, come on." Said Ron. "We're not going to tell anyone." Harry's lip twisted uncomfortably. Ginny saw Harry's uncertainty.

"It's none of our business." Ginny decided. "We'll hear the speech later with everyone else." She was making an obvious effort after their fight from the day before. Harry gave her an appreciative peck on the lips, which left her content. The conversation continued onward.

"Who d'you think they've got teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?" Ron asked. Ginny and Hermione began to voice their predictions, but Harry had quickly gone into a shock.

A guilt-stricken panic began to tear him away from the others as images of his past professors flushed his vision. Remus, Mad-Eye, Snape. All dead because of the war. Harry felt as though he would suffocate. Without thought, he projected himself onto his feet and left the compartment.

"I'll be right back." Harry offered back to his friends as he hurled himself down the corridor. Students watched him pass; first years were immobilized and star struck. But Harry didn't notice them. He just had to escape this feeling. He didn't know where he was going, he just had to escape.

His movement suddenly stopped as he crashed into another student. The impact knocked some realization into Harry, and he looked up to see who he had just run into.

It was Draco Malfoy.

For that moment the two men just stared at each other. It was the first time in years that their meeting hadn't quickly escalated into a wand-drawn frenzy. Instead they just stared. Harry could have been mistaken, but he thought he saw that same grief and depression he was feeling reflected in Malfoy's eyes.

"Potter." Draco coughed out in greeting. Harry nodded before quickly continuing on past him. Draco remained motionless for a moment, letting the tension ease past him. Harry was the last person he wanted to see this early into the school year. The noble boy who lived, who saved the entire wizarding world while watching his friends die. And what had Draco done? He'd persecuted the boy like a common bully. It was pitiful. Draco had resolved that this year would be completely neutral. No harassment. No fights. He was just going to focus on his studies and move on.

Draco finally began moving again and entered the compartment he shared with Pansy and Blaise. Goyle had opted out of returning this year. The two were sitting on opposite benches, and Pansy looked up expectantly at Draco's entrance. Her eyes willed him to come sit down beside her. But he did not comply. Instead he sat in the empty seat beside Blaise. The last thing Draco wanted to do was to fuel the lingering feelings Pansy still had towards him. Attempting to overcome her disappointment, Pansy began speaking again.

"I mean, the Gryffindors are just going to be so insufferable this year." Pansy griped. "They're going to be so full of themselves. And of course they're going to get special treatment like usual, and we'll just have to listen to them."

"I'm sure we can find ways to shut them up. Right Draco?" Blaise asked, turning to him. Draco looked up to the ceiling.

"I just think it's sad that we fought a war and we're still so obsessed with something as trivial as school houses." Draco noted. Pansy looked stung by this.

"Blood purity is not trivial." She spat.

"Voldemort wasn't even a pureblood, and he was more obsessed with it than anyone else!" Draco exclaimed. Blaise and Pansy both gasped at his mention of the dark lord's name. Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. He's dead. He can't hurt you."

"So you're just going to be friends with all the Gryffindors then?" Pansy asked venomously.

"Why are we even talking about this? It's stupid. Who cares?" Draco complained. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, condemning the conversation to an icy silence.

As Harry stood facing the student littered Great Hall he took several deep breaths. Visions of rubble and chaos pulsed against his eyes, but when his vision cleared, he saw that the Great Hall looked the same as it always had. It had been rebuilt as good as new. Except that the large, streaming banners of the four houses were now missing. And that was why he must give this speech.

Earlier, the new first years had been shepherded into the hall. But what followed was unprecedented. Rather than being immediately sorted, Harry had been called to the front of the hall to address the students. There were murmurs of excitement that were hushed in preparation to hear Harry Potter speak.

Harry looked down to the speech unfolded in his hands. It was brief and plain. No fancy language or big words. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt to have Hermione read it. She could have edited it for him. But it was too late now. No one expected him to give some glorious speech. Or did they? He looked down at the scribbled lines again. It was short, and would be over before he knew it. He gathered his courage and began to speak.

"Seven years ago, my friends and I first arrived at Hogwarts." He began, his voice magically booming across the hall. "Ever since then, it has been my home. I know there are a lot of people here who feel that way. Hogwarts is a place where we can always be safe.

'But several months ago, that stopped being true. Hogwarts was attacked, and many brave witches and wizards died to protect us." Harry paused a moment and licked his lips, hoping his voice would remain steady as he continued. "It's clear that, after the war, our school has been left divided, rather than united. Houses turned against other houses, and I'm sure many students feel a lot of negativity towards each other. But what our new headmistress, Professor McGonagall wants to prove, is that this negativity is baseless. We're all Hogwarts students, and it's time for us to stand together."

Harry looked up towards his friends and the Gryffindor table who were hanging on his every word. He took a deep breath and read the final lines of his speech.

"There will be some temporary changes this year. Effective immediately, the four houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, will no longer exist."

The Great Hall erupted with anger.


	3. Chapter 3

McGonagall had told Harry not to expect the news that the four houses being dissolved to go over well with students, but what unfolded before him was absolute anarchy. Students had jumped to their feet and on top of their benches to shriek their dismay back up at him. Empty plates and silverware clattered across the tables in the frenzy. The entire display was proving to be too much for Harry. All he could see was a tangle of the people he cared for fighting off insurmountable forces of Death Eaters. _They were all going to die unless he could do something to protect them. But he couldn't protect them. He was powerless, and they were all going to die._

Professor McGonagall could see Harry's distress and promptly inserted herself in front of him to face the waves of outrage. She bore the face of the stern transfiguration teacher that the students had come to respect and fear. The familiar narrowing of her eyes let everyone know that she was not going to have any this in her school.

"Quiet down!" she bellowed, her voice far less amiable then the previous Headmaster's. "You should be ashamed of yourselves." She admonished. "Behaving like a band of animals on your first day back! Shame on you." She took a moment to breath as he words sunk in over the students. The hall had grown deathly silent in response, but the faces of the students remained angry.

'I am not doing this to punish you." She continued in a lighter voice. "I understand how upset you must feel, but this is the way things are going to be. There is no use carrying on over it. Common rooms will no longer be password protected, and will be open to any and all students. Dormitories will, however, be protected by passwords, and we must sort you all into new room assignments before the feast can continue."

This brought on a new wave of outbursts. Young girls clutched their friends and sobbed, unwilling to be torn apart. Now McGonagall was beginning to look flustered. This time, Harry knew what needed to be said. He touched McGonagall's elbow, and she looked back at him.

"Can I say something?" he asked.

"By all means." She responded, gladly stepping away from the eye of the crowd.

"Can I just, can I say something for a minute? Please?" Harry asked of the students. They hushed down, hoping that Harry had returned to tell them that he had talked this crazy idea out of Professor McGonagall's head. With the attention of the crowd back to him, he continued. "Do you all realize the things we've been through together? You lived through a war. You all stayed here, stayed brave, when Hogwarts was being terrorized by the Carrows. And Professor McGonagall, this remarkable woman, protected you. She was the first person to walk into battle for all of you. We need to listen to her and respect her, because she's earned that from us.

'History is going to look back at our generation and how we handled ourselves after these tragedies. They'll look to this moment, and how do we want to be remembered? Like a bunch of angry, spoiled children? No. Like adaptable, mature young adults who learned what sacrifice is, because that is who we are. These dorm assignments will be temporary. They'll be switched up four times this year, so if you can't bunk with your friends this time, you still have three more chances." The faces on the crowd were beginning to soften. He was finally getting through to them. "I would now like to make an example of myself, and get sorted." He said resolutely.

He looked expectantly back at the Headmistress who quickly flicked her wand. With a light sound, seven tall, black vases appeared in midair along the front of the staff table. They bobbed slowly in their levitation and were each emblazoned with a large, golden number ranging from one to seven. Harry's eyes panned down to the end and found the vase labeled seven, assuming it was for seventh years. His robes whipped behind him as he quickly walked the length of the staff table. Sitting directly behind the seventh vase was Hagrid, who gave Harry a watery wink. Apparently the speech had struck an emotional chord inside the half-giant. As Harry came to a stop in front of the vase, he caught a quick glimpse of a red haired man sitting beside Hagrid, and the subsequent double take proved this man to be Arthur Weasley.

Mr. Weasley gave a small wave then pointed to the vase, reminding Harry to continue. Harry wiped through the confusion in his head to begin making sense of the moment. He'd have to hang behind later and find out what Mr. Weasley was doing there, but for now he needed to finish what he had started.

He plunged his hand into the vase, and was shocked to be met by a plume of frigid air that numbed his fingers. His hand shot back out of the vase in response, and he was surprised to see a small bit of parchment wrapped around his forefinger. He unwrapped the parchment to find two words written upon it: "_Boys, Three._" He didn't know what this meant, but he guessed that it wasn't important enough to share. He walked back over to stand beside Professor McGonagall.

"I hope that the rest of you will be able to follow my example." Harry said. He looked pointedly towards the Gryffindor table. They looked back up at him with stunned silence for several moments.

With a noisy clatter, Ron stumbled off of his bench and began marching up towards the front. Hermione and Ginny followed after, greeting Harry with large smiles. Ron and Hermione took turns at the seventh year vase while Ginny approached the sixth. Harry turned back to the Great Hall as he heard more clamoring, and saw several Hufflepuffs lead by Hannah Abbott heading towards him. Scarcely had the Hufflepuffs reached the vases but a handful of Ravenclaws joined them. Among them were Luna Lovegood and Michael Korner. McGonagall watched the students and grinned appreciatively, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

But this moment of small victory was short lived as the hall came to a stand-still. All eyes were now focused on the glowering Slytherin table, anxiously waiting to see if anyone would represent their house. It was obvious that the entire reason the houses were being dissolved was for their benefit. If the houses remained, the Slytherins would be thought of as Death Eathers. Would they really be so prideful as to refuse this offer?

Harry's breath caught. The Slytherins that weren't avoiding Harry's eye contact were glaring directly back at him in defiance. It had seemed like it was all going so well just to be ruined this easily. All the Slytherins had to do was sit there and the whole year would be abundantly more difficult.

And that is when an unlikely blonde head rose above the others. Immobilized by shock, the entire school watched as Draco Malfoy paced up towards the seventh year vase and took a number. He nodded back to the Slytehrins, as if confirming that this was the right thing to do, and they looked back at him with utter confusion.

With Draco's actions, the entire Great Hall was filled with the sounds of scraping benches as the students stood up to be sorted, following the examples of their leaders.

At this point, McGonagall stepped in with a list of students by year to add some organization to the event. The list began with new first years, who had been anxiously standing in the back of the hall the entire time. Harry moved out of the spotlight and joined the slowly growing pool of students who had been sorted. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were already comparing room assignments.

"_Girls, One._" Said Hermione.

"_Boys, Four_." Said Ron.

_"Girls, Four." _Said Ginny. Harry held out his paper.

"_Boys, Three." _He read.

"Better luck next time, mates." Sighed Ron. Hermione smacked his arm.

"What is that supposed to mean? Are you not happy about sharing a dorm with your sister?"

Harry zoned out as Hermione and Ron began a typical spat. Harry found himself watching Malfoy, who stood only a few feet away.. He seemed somewhat lost, yet oddly comfortable with what the evening had turned into. Blaise suddenly appeared next to him.

"What'd you get?" Blaise asked. Draco angled his paper so that Blaise could read it. From where he was standing, Harry could read the words "_Boys, Three."_

Harry still didn't know what "_Boys, Three_" referred to, but it looked like he would be sharing it with Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This one is a little long, but at least we're starting to get somewhere! Sorry this is all moving so slowly. I promise I'll keep updating as often as I can manage! Of course, reviews are highly appreciated.

"I wanted it to be a surprise! Mostly, I just thought you'd talk me out of it if you knew." Said Mr. Weasley merrily. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all stood to the side of the flow of students bustling out of the great hall, listening to Arthur Weasley's explanation. "They've offered me the position of Muggle Studies teacher!"

"That's great, Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed Hermione with sincerity. Harry couldn't help but form a grin at seeing Mr. Weasley's giddiness. For once he'd be able to display his passion of muggle knick-knacks for others to see. The Weasley children did not reflect the same excitement as the others in the group.

"Won't mum be lonely?" Ron asked.

"I'll be back at the Burrow every weekend, and your mother is going to spend more time with Bill, Fleur, and the baby. And now we get to spend the whole year together!'

Ginny's iciness finally thawed, and she gave her father a quick hug.

"The whole year?" Ron asked dumbly. This warranted a dangerous arch in Hermione's eyebrows.

"Ronald!" she harped. Just as Harry began searching for an excuse to avoid the impending quarrel, Professor McGonagall materialized beside them. Harry noticed her typically perfect hair was slightly askew, hinting at the duties of Headmistress beginning to frazzle her.

"I need to speak to your for a moment." She claimed with the same unyielding authority that was usually expelled from her lips. She pointed towards Ron and Hermione. "It will take some time to get everything completely organized, but prefects will obviously need to be reassigned. We will be sticking to only two seventh years per dormitory, and they will change four times a year along with dormitory assignments." She explained this all very quickly, as if she had already done so many, many times. "Are you still interested in being prefects?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" piped Hermione.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes?" asked Arthur. McGonagall's eyes closed in minor frustration at the mix up.

"No, I meant," she trailed off, pointing to Ron. Ron brightened up with alertness and opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur interceded.

"Of course he will." Arthur said proudly, clapping his son on the shoulder.

"Very well." McGonagall noted. "And you, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, I wasn't a prefect, ever." Harry explained awkwardly, wondering how Professor McGonagall could have confused that.

"We're considering all seventh years for prefect duties this year, regardless of prior qualifications. Are you interested at this time?"

"Erm, maybe next time." Harry muttered. "I think I'm just going to focus on my schoolwork for right now."

"That's a first." Ron snorted, earning a glare from Hermione. McGonagall frowned at Ron.

"Mr. Weasley."

"Sorry."

"No, I meant your father this time." McGonagall was quickly growing tired of the confusion. "I will show you to the teacher's lounge if you are unoccupied."

"Excellent. I'll see you lot in the morning." Arthur said, following McGonagall. Ron watched after his father.

"She seems pretty stressed." Noticed Ginny.

"Should I change my last name, or something?" offered Ron.

Draco quickly learned that dormitory three was actually the Ravenclaw common room, but of course no one would say that directly. Annoyingly, the students were led by Professor Flitwick to dormitory three, as if it was some great mystery as to what was in this part of the castle. Draco scaled the staircase behind a pair of second year boys that had apparently just decided that they would be best friends.

He was tempted to silence their unruly giggling with a well-placed foot to trip them. The thought breathed a precocious adrenaline through Draco's dusty bones where the feeling had once been familiar. Now almost all feelings were completely alien to him or else breathtakingly painful. The latter was currently proving to be true. A shower of guilt boiled under his skin and panic brimmed in his eyes. How could he have almost done that? Either of those children could be war-torn or parentless. This moment could have been their first instance of happiness in months, and Draco almost ruined it. The thought of such selfishness made it difficult for him to breath.

The moment Flitwick opened the door to the common room Draco shoved his way through. All he wanted to do was escape that moment on the stairs. His intention was to head directly to his dormitory and bury his emotional state into his bed, but he was paused in surprise at the décor of the common room. He had expected a sweep of dark blue trimmed in bronze, but instead was met with a mismatch of color and design. No uniform style could be discerned. This was no longer the Ravenclaw common room. It was dormitory three. Draco's stomach turned at the thought of what they'd done to his Slytherin common room.

But really, he had no right to complain. He had been the one that jumped to his feet to pull that paper from that vase and get stuck here. Despite his earlier display, he was still unsure about how he felt about this situation. It had just been that look on Potter's face. The guy looked so unbearably sad in front of that hall of students; far sadder than what was reasonable in that moment. Seeing Potter that way had brought on another swarm of guilt, and Draco would have done anything to make him look happier. Honestly, it looked like he was about to cry.

What a cry baby. But of course, if anyone had a right to cry, it was Harry Potter.

Draco hung his head and moped towards the stairs in search of a bed to surrender himself to. Upon finding the appropriate dorm, Draco was greeted by his roommates. Or, rather, they both gawked at him, unsure of whether or not to be friendly.

"Hi." Draco said to them. Justin Finch-Fletchley nodded back to him.

"Hiya, Malfoy." Neville Longbottom said, feigning geniality. Draco assumed this was a thorough enough exchange of pleasantries to earn him the right to move on. He spied two empty beds and fell into the left one, giving no care to his fully-dressed status. The others seemed ready to move on from Draco's appearance and continued chatting.

Their words dulled away from Draco's senses as he entered the deepest despair of his daily routine. This was the part where he stared at the empty expanse of white sheets beside him. Admittedly, this "expanse" was much smaller in the narrow four-poster Hogwarts bed than in his bed at home, but the empty space was just as tauntingly existent. It was a constant reminder of his solitude. There was no one there for him to share his thoughts with. No one there to look back at him and truthfully say, "I understand." No one he could trust enough to share his life and existence with. And, most of all, no one who trusted _him_ enough to share _their_ life and existence with.

Draco was torn from his mind as the door opened. He looked up to see who his other roommate would be, hoping for a Slytherin face.

Of course. It was Harry Potter.

Harry and Draco locked eyes momentarily, then Draco turned back to look at his sheets. Neville gave an overly enthusiastic greeting to the new arrival, and Draco choked back his discomfort. The other boys' attention turned to the bundle of clothes that were cradled in Harry's arms.

"Flitwick sent me up with these. Non house-specific uniforms." Harry explained as Neville began picking a tie out from the bundle.

"Purple and black?" he asked, noting the series of stripes going down the tie.

"Probably the only neutral colors they could come up with." Said Justin, folding away the new additions to his wardrobe.

"Malfoy, want your stuff?" asked Harry. Draco turned over slowly to see Harry toss a pile onto the front of Draco's bed. They both paused momentarily. Despite everything the two had subjected each other to, here they were, having a normal moment. Harry was treating Draco like a normal person, as if Draco had legitimacy in being there, and wasn't just a Death Eater coward.

"Thanks." Said Draco. Harry blinked surprisedly, not expecting such a simple and sincere response. Draco turned back over, and Harry wished he wouldn't. He seemed upset, and for some reason Harry wanted to fix that. Shaking the thought away, Harry rejoined the conversation with Neville and Justin.

A time stretching silence was all that Harry heard as he lied awake in his bed. This wasn't unusual, but at home he could usually have a drink to help the process along.

The bed felt cold despite the early September heat and a heavy loneliness hung as tangibly over Harry as his blankets, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to get out of that place. He turned over as a rustling met his ears.

He and Malfoy locked a gaze once again, but this time a surprised one as Harry caught him pulling a sport coat on. Malfoy was obviously about to leave, and the awkwardness of the situation left Harry searching for something appropriate to do. Should he pull his wand on him? Or just roll over and pretend to go back to sleep?

Draco sighed loudly.

"Want to go for a walk, Potter?"

Harry answered instantly.

"Sure."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has been following this story and leaving reviews! You make it easy to stay motivated. Just a reminder, this chapter makes more sense if you remember that the last couple of chapter established that the common rooms are no longer password protected. Thanks!

Silver shimmering moonlight fell in pillars across the night forsaken hall. Draco and Harry streamed off the stairs and walked briskly past the towering windows down the corridor.

"Where are we going?" Harry gave a preliminary question, unsure of his wisdom in following Malfoy around the castle in the middle of the night. He'd decided to join him on a whim, but reality was beginning to tug at the back of his mind.

"I just wanted to see the Slytherin common room." Draco said, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve until it wrapped evenly around his wrist. Harry was intrigued by Malfoy's need to insure he looked presentable, despite the apparent lack of anyone around to see him. And even more intriguing was Malfoy's want to see his former common room. Was someone like Draco Malfoy capable of nostalgia? Harry became so interested that he was propelled by an insatiable want to ask about it.

"Do you miss it?" Harry asked without thinking, immediately wishing he could swallow his words back up before Malfoy heard them.

"I just want to see what they've done with it." Draco said staring straight ahead. This comment twinged inside Harry. Malfoy actually cared about something? Harry leveled that it was worth it to continue pressing his luck in the conversation.

"So you like Hogwarts, then?" Harry was certain that Malfoy's defenses would shoot up at this, and this brief faux-friendship would be condemned to an abrupt end. But instead, Malfoy grinned, still looking ahead and away from Harry.

"Um, kind of." Draco said. "I used to hate it. I mean, I thought I hated it. This place is pretty much just a reminder of constantly coming in second place to you and a mud-" Draco paused, readying his correction. "behind Granger. Got a lot of hell from my father about that." Draco finished. Harry was temporarily stunned by the honesty of Malfoy's answer.

"Erm, yeah, Hermione is pretty smart."

"But yeah, I mean, I'm not all weepy 'Hogwarts is my home' like you, but I like Hogwarts now, I guess. For a while I was convinced this was just a refuge for a bunch of dirty blooded pricks who were beneath me. But you know, that was adolescence."

Harry chuckled. Malfoy looked up to him, causing Harry to surge with alarm. But Malfoy's face was cracked with a grin.

"Are you laughing at my soul-bearing testimony, Potter?" Draco asked.

"I am." He confessed. "I found it amusing." The two came to a stop at a familiar passage that had previously only revealed itself at the uttering of a password. Harry's adrenaline tickled slightly at the hidden information of his last arrival at this passageway.

"This is it." Draco offered, unaware of Harry's prior clue-hunting in the Slytherin common room. They strode through the dank passage and emerged into the low lit dungeon-esque common room. Draco stepped back as the image crashed over him.

The poisonous emerald glow had been replaced by a warm, orange aura. Dark, antique couches had been reupholstered in hearty shades of cream and beige. The scene appealed to Harry as comforting and inviting, so he could only imagine how it was torturing Malfoy. Harry expected to see Malfoy revert back to his snarling, pre-war self. But instead, he saw a despondent, stony expression plastered across Malfoy's lax features.

"That's disappointing." Draco whispered, face contorting as he bit the inside of his cheek. Harry remained silent, not wanting to hint that he had been in this room before. Draco gave a low sigh, then spun about on his heel. "I'm ready to leave."

"Already?"

"Don't you want to see the Gryffindor common room?" Draco asked. Harry hadn't considered the prospect until now, but curiosity was beginning to prickle at his skin.

"Sure." He answered, following Draco back down the passageway. They ascended out from the gloom of the dungeons, and Draco's stride fell in step to follow Harry to Gryffindor Tower. A quiver of a nearby shadow brought Harry to a stop, wanting for the protection of his invisibility cloak.

"What?" Draco inquired as he came to a stop beside him. Harry peered through the shadows and shook off the fright as he detected no further movement. They began walking again.

"Thought I saw Mrs. Norris." Harry explained. Draco snorted a laugh.

"You're still afraid of a cat?"

"I don't want detention on my first night back." Harry reasoned. Rolling eyes joined Draco's smile.

"If Filch shows up, just flash him that scar and he'll back off." Draco offered.

"It doesn't give me diplomatic immunity."

"Ah, come on Potter. I can't show him my dark mark. It's kind of an empty threat now." Draco pointed out. Now it was Harry's turn to snort in laughter. Draco looked to him. "I'm glad you thought that was funny. Whenever I make that joke to my mother I just end up watching the blood drain out of her face."

"Yeah, I hear that pure blood drains a lot faster. It's not all mucked up with dirt, you know." Harry quipped. They both dissolved into laughter, delighting in the mutual disregard for the appropriateness of their joking. Harry could just see the judgmental eyes of Hermione glaring at him in his head.

_That's not funny, Harry._ He could hear her overly severe voice scolding.

_Ah, sod off._ He thought back, erasing her presence from his mind. Didn't he just sign a contract promising he would indulge himself? If he wanted to joke about blood purity with Malfoy, he was contractually bound to do so.

They slowed as they approached the portrait-hole, no longer guarded by the portrait of the Fat Lady. They stepped through the hole together, and Harry blinked. The room was now awash with cool white lighting and stark, colorless furniture. Crimson and gold no longer hung proudly from the walls. The one place in this world that had consistently welcomed him was now gone. Gryffindor house was gone, and deep down, that's all Harry truly was. A Gryffindor. His father was a Gryffindor. His mother was a Gryffindor. His godfather, his best friends, his entire life centered around Gryffindor house. His identity had been torn messily from his chest, leaving a gaping, festering wound choking for air.

"What are they thinking?" Harry demanded, several registers above the hushed tone he had been previously using. Draco stepped toward him in warning.

"It's just temporary, remember?" Draco said, hushing his voice. He could see Harry's resolve was quickly fracturing.

"This isn't even Hogwarts anymore! This is not the school that everyone died to protect!" Harry bellowed. Instinctively, Draco clasped a hand around Harry's arm and dragged him back towards the portrait hole. By the time reason had reached his thoughts, Draco was flushed with panic. Surely grabbing at him in this moment would shatter the ice between he and Harry's previous feudal status. He drew his arm back, anticipating an onslaught of fiery attack to shoot from Harry's wand.

Instead, Harry continued through the portrait hole, paying no mind to the touch from Draco. He stepped through the hole after Harry and followed his fleeing descent down the staircase. Harry breathed heavily, willing a calm rhythm to take control of his lungs. The cold oxygen settled the brimming fire in his mind.

"Sorry." Harry panted back at Draco, his cheeks puckered pink in embarrassment. "You handled that a lot better than I did."

Draco gave an unseen nod in agreement, choosing not to speak. Harry's mental state was probably too bordering on hysterics to handle another cheeky joke, and Draco was not about to extend any comfort to him. He was getting along with Potter, but he was not about to distort his comfort zone for him. They clicked along down the hall in silence before Harry spoke again.

"I'm just finally realizing that Hogwarts doesn't exist anymore." Harry confessed. "Everyone died for nothing."

Draco looked up to the familiar walls. It all looked the same, but he felt the truth of Potter's words. Their part of Hogwarts was gone. They were displaced.

They leveled down onto the entrance hall floor and began to pass the entrance to the great hall. Upon a strange observation, Harry's pace slowed. Draco followed his line of sight to make the same discovery.

"They kept the house points hour glasses." Harry noted, voice shaking with appreciation. They looked hazily up at the crimson, emerald, sapphire, and gold stones as they twinkled in the moon's ghostly sheen. Almost soundlessly, Draco paced to the opposite stone wall and sat on the floor facing the hour glasses. Harry followed suit, and the two former enemies gazed at the pillars of the past, yearning for a time that had already died away.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry I had such a long hiatus there for a while. This is a longer chapter, so hopefully that will make up for it a little.

A vision of whiskers and rotundity, Professor Slughorn waddled down the night-soaked corridors of Hogwarts school, grumbling his discontent. His first night back and he had already been commissioned to patrol the dark, empty hallways. His mind wandered back to his cozy office where a crackling fire and bottle of mead awaited him. The tantalizing thoughts caused some consideration of educational dishonesty to push to the front of Slughorn's mind. Perhaps he could just tiptoe away unnoticed and end his walk a tad early. He could trust these kids to keep out of trouble for a couple of hours, right? Truthfully, he hadn't seen anything that warranted suspicion of students out of bed.

In immediate contradiction to his previous thought came a pair of male voices wafting down the corridor. His skin prickled with anger at the discovery. Why couldn't these kids just learn to follow the rules? He had better things to do besides chastising transgressing teenagers in the middle of the night.

But Slughorn stopped short when he spotted the two perpetrators. Sitting beside each other in a friendly proximity were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, conversing pleasantly on the floor. Slughorn had only taught at Hogwarts a year before the two boys were hidden away by war, but even he was well aware that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were the most thorough of enemies. Dumbfounded, he watched as Draco slowly pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand to Harry to help him do the same. Their conversation continued as they both walked away down the corridor, apparently unaware of Slughorn's presence. He stood silently, puzzled over what he had seen. With a noisy exhalation, he rustled off in the direction of his office with the intention of retiring for the night.

If enemies like Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could behave like friends, he trusted that the halls were safe without his supervision.

Chattering filled the Great Hall the next morning and Harry's nose was greeted by the savory scent of toast and eggs as he sat with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. With a chorus of chirps and flutters, a wave of owls swept the hall, dropping a rain of parcels on the students. A small piece of hurriedly folded parchment fell onto Harry's plate. He looked up after it, expecting to see a soaring speck of white. But then came another twang of pain through his chest.

Hedwig was dead.

He unfolded the paper and quickly read the scrawled words:

_I would like to meet with you before dinner to discuss Quidditch. Meet me at the pitch at five. But please keep this to yourself. _

_ -Madam Hooch_

"Professor Tag? What kind of name is that?" gaped Ron, looking over his class schedule for the coming week. Harry searched the strange name out on his own schedule and found that he was scheduled for his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Tag later that morning.

"You have Defense Against the Dark Arts today?" Harry asked, realizing that he was no longer guaranteed to have Ron by his side.

"Nope. Potions and Muggle Studies." Ron said begrudgingly. Hermione laced her hand into his.

"Ron thought it would be a good idea to support his father." Hermione announced proudly.

"Correction. _Hermione _thought it would be a good idea for me to support my father." Ron said. Hermione's hand snapped back and her face darkened with a scowl at the remark.

"Why do you always wait to say things like that until other people are listening?" she snapped.

"And they're fighting again." Murmured Harry, turning to Ginny at his side.

"At least they're consistent." She noted. Harry grinned at her.

"How are your dorm mates?" he asked her.

"All Slytherin and all ignoring me."

"That's not good." He said, brow crinkling.

"It's okay."

"Maybe if you're friendly to them they'll come around." He offered.

"Or maybe if I fill their beds with dung it will be really funny." She chuckled, waiting for Harry's laugh to accompany her. But his laugh never came. Instead he eyed her sternly and her giddiness melted under his glance.

"Sorry." She said quickly.

"That's not why we're doing all of this. They're not Slytherins anymore." Harry lectured.

"I know. I'm sorry."

He watched her for another moment before releasing a stifled breath, marking the end of the argument. Ginny turned her chocolate brown eyes to Harry appreciatively, hope to erase the scuffle from his thoughts.

"Who are _your_ dorm mates?" She asked. Harry froze, stricken by a sudden stream of memories from the night before. Hours had waned away as Harry discussed his full array of thoughts with the Slytherin poster boy himself. He surprised even himself with his unusual behavior, but he felt no hint of shame. There was no private store of guilt inside Harry to be associated with that late night, which was a rare feeling lately. All the same, he felt compelled to keep the truth his own secret.

"Neville's in my room." He remarked lightly.

"That's great!" Ginny smiled. It was that same warm, sincere smile that used to set Harry's heart spinning. But lately it had lacked it's previous radiance and left Harry unaffected. She wouldn't admit it, but something was constraining her happiness deep down; something apart from losing her brother and friends in the war. Something new had developed, Harry could see that. But he realized suddenly, with a returning wash of guilt, that he didn't care enough to ask about it.

"Hurry up. We only have five minutes." Griped Draco, tossing an impatient hand through his blonde hair. He, Blaise, and Pansy still had a large stretch of castle between them and the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but his companions didn't share his sense of urgency.

"Hold on a second." Said Blaise, turning indulgently toward a throng of passing first years. "Good morning!" he bellowed down at the group of five, who each came to a terrified stop. "Late for class?"

"Blaise, come on." Murmured Draco, face growing hot with anxiety. Pansy smiled with devilished glee. Blaise produced his wand from his pocket, ignoring Draco.

"Maybe if your legs move quicker you'll make it to class on time. Let me help you out. Jelly legs jinx!" Blaise snapped his wrist and the closest first years' legs began quivering violently. The other first years stepped back frightfully.

"Seriously, stop it." Begged Malfoy, but he was drowned out by Pansy's waspish giggles.

"Quit this deviance immediately!" came a resounding command. Professor McGonagall waved her wand, freeing the first year of the hex. He rejoined the other first years and they scrambled away up the hall, allowing McGonagall the room to close in on Blaise. She pointed her finger warningly at him. "It is the first day of classes and I am feeling good natured. I will grant you amnesty today, but do not mistake me. Another hex in my hallways and you will land yourself in detention for the remainder of the year. Now continue on to class."

Pansy threw the headmistress a moody scowl before she and Blaise hurried off up the corridor. McGonagall began to turn away, but Draco stepped after her.

"Professor, I'm sorry about them." He explained desperately.

"That's fine, Mr. Malfoy." She said insincerely

"I tried to stop them."

"That's fine, Mr. Malfoy." She repeated sharply. "Now continue to your class."

Draco nodded and walked away from her, swallowing against the lump of shame in his throat.

Blaise and Pansy threaded through the rows of two-person desks sitting at the two remaining vacant desks in the back corner. They both turned to Malfoy, silently offering the empty seats beside them. Draco looked at them unblinking before surveying the rest of the room. There were no other empty seats except one in the front. The desk shared by Potter.

Harry listened remotely to Seamus and Lavender to his right, who were arguing about some male singer that Harry had never heard of. He found the topic amusing, however, and listened as he waited for the class to start.

"Please find your seats!" came the voice of a young man. Harry looked to the front of the room to catch a look at the year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he was distracted as Draco Malfoy fell into the seat beside him.

"Erm, hi?" said Harry. Draco gave him a brief and distracted nod as he pulled supplies from his bag.

"The Dark Arts!" said Professor Tag, standing directly in front of Harry and Draco. "Sounds kind of scary, right? It can be. But I probably don't need to tell you guys this. You've lived everything I can teach you. And that will be my challenge." He rubbed his hands together as a zealous twinkle sparked in his eye. The first thing everyone noticed about Professor Tag was that he was an American. He was also young, probably early twenties, with a swirling wave of light brown hair and ravenous blue eyes that fell down onto Harry. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter." He said, extending a hand to Harry. He slowly shook it before the Professor continued on. "Please everyone, do not see this as a show of favoritism. I promise I will quickly learn all of your names, his was just the easiest to guess." The class gave a small laugh. "As you might already know, I am Professor Benjamin Tag, and I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Let's get started then!"

Tag proved to be excitable and extraordinarily passionate as he gave a lecture an introductory lecture on Ghouls. Harry found himself quickly liking the young, American professor. This seemed to be the shared feeling of the class, based on the murmurs of the other students once they were dismissed and began exiting the classroom. The class packed up their bags and swarmed out through the door as Tag approached Harry once more.

"Sorry about singling you out at the beginning of class." Tag apologized. Harry shrugged.

"I'm used to it." He answered honestly.

"I bet you are." Tag laughed. "I'll see you next class." He patted his arm and strode up the stairway to his office. Harry felt the silence of the now deserted classroom and turned down to his desk to finish packing his things up. To his surprise, Malfoy was still sitting there.

"Does it bother you when people recognize you?" Draco asked. Harry paused momentarily in confusion.

"Kind of. It depends." He answered. "Are you jealous or something?"

"Not of _that_." Draco finally stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. "But it must be nice to have people expect the best from you. Everyone expects the worst from me." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and trudged from the room. Harry stood with motion, considering the words that were fading from the room.

Had Malfoy just confided in him? And if that's what had really just happened, what was going on in Malfoy's life that Harry was the only person to talk to? Surprisingly, it wasn't apathy that filled Harry at that moment as it had with his earlier conversation with Ginny. He left the room, determined to make sense of Draco Malfoy.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Sorry for such a long wait! I have a couple more chapters written up, so expect them to come out quickly this week. Thank you for your patience! The next couple of chapters introduce a lot of lesser known Harry Potter characters and I am trying to be as canon as possible. If anyone notices anything I say about a character that is incorrect, please let me know, lest I will be subject to further embarrassment. Thank you guys!

The late summer dusk was beginning to hint with a foggy red above the desolate Quidditch pitch. Stripped of banners and house colors, the rising stands loomed over Harry like the melancholy, wooden bones of a giant skeleton. Similar to the rest of the school, the pitch had been remarkably rebuilt to appear as if the school had never seen conflict. But to Harry's unruly eyes, the pitch was still engulfed in fire and flooded in the cries of bloodshed. He blinked forcefully, attempting to put the image from his mind.

As prompted by the note he had received earlier that day, Harry was heading down to the pitch to meet with Madam Hooch for some undisclosed reason. He move at a fervent pace due to the note stipulating that he meet Madam Hooch at five o'clock, and the actual time being half past five.

Three darkly clad figures were huddled together in the center of the field, and Harry could discern the spiky-haired silhouette of Madam Hooch among them through the early evening brume. As he continued to close the distance between himself and the figures, he vaguely recognized one of them as a boy from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. The other, to Harry's slight detest, was Zacharias Smith. Harry had met Zacharias as a member of the DA, but the boy had proved himself disloyal and thoroughly unpleasant throughout the meetings. Harry was, in fact, surprised to see that Zacharias had returned to Hogwarts, since the last anyone had seen of him he had been fleeing for his life before Death Eaters had swarmed the school. Harry bit back his dislike and gave the group an amiable nod to announce his arrival.

"Ah, Potter. It's about time you showed up." said Madam Hooch with her characteristically brisk elocution. "You become a war-hero and suddenly you lose all punctuality?" she chided.

"Erm, sorry." Harry grumbled. Not feeling any actual remorse for his tardiness, this was the best apology he could muster.

"Let's get started, then." decided Madam Hooch. "Potter, this is Jason Samuels and Zacharias Smith." She said briskly. "I also asked the Malfoy boy to meet us, but it doesn't look like he's decided to show."

"I'm here." Draco murmured quietly from behind Madam Hooch. His arrival had been so soundless, no one had even noticed his appearance. He kept his eyes low to the ground and slowly trudged into place among the group as Madam Hooch gave him a similar admonishing for his lateness. Harry didn't catch much of what she said as he found himself intently studying Malfoy. He looked even more despondent than he had in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry couldn't help but imagine a younger version of Malfoy sauntering into this meeting and making some offensive proclamation about his own worth over everyone else. But this face Malfoy was wearing belonged to someone else. Memories of their imprisonment at Malfoy Manner flashed through his mind, with Draco staring straight at Harry with broken, soulless eyes, and lying to his family to save Harry's neck.

A twinge of erupting blood across his palm suddenly thrust Harry out from his thoughts. Unwittingly, Harry had spent the last seconds tightening his fists until his fingernails had broken through his skin. He closed his fists again in an attempt to hide the minor injury.

"I suppose it's a bit obvious why I've called you four out here." continued Madam Hooch. "It's safe to assume that each of you would be Quidditch captain this year if we hadn't committed to this ridiculous idea to get rid of the four houses."

Harry picked at his jacket awkwardly as Zacharias showed a cheeky grin at the idea of being a Quidditch captain. Draco remained stone faced, eyes fixated downward.

"So there isn't going to be Quidditch this year?" Jason Samuels asked timidly.

"Luckily, with a headmistress like Professor McGonogal, Quidditch will always be a priority at Hogwarts." Madam Hooch grinned. "But I've been left with the task of organizing the Quidditch season this year, which will prove difficult since the four house teams have been disbanded. Before I make any real decisions, I figured it would be fair to ask your opinions on the matter." She finished with an expectant look to the four boys. They remained silent for a moment as if expecting Harry to come forward with a grand idea. When none came, Zacharias perked up.

"We could just have one team for every dormitory." Zacharias said. Harry crossed his arms, deliberating whether it was worth it to point out the flaw in Zacharias' idea.

"But that defeats the point of everything we're doing." Harry explained, deciding that his own desire to stay quiet wasn't worth jeopardizing McGonogal's vision of a house free Hogwarts. "We're not supposed to associate ourselves with our dormitories like we did with our houses. They're just supposed to be where we sleep. If we're going to have Quidditch, we need to figure out a way to keep people from pitting themselves against each other like we usually do."

"Quidditch is a competitive sport; you can't do it without pitting people against each other." Zacharias pointed out, obviously annoyed at being undermined.

"Then maybe we just shouldn't have Quidditch this year." Harry said resolutely, looking toward the sky so as to avoid the scandalized expressions that were surely plastered across the surrounding faces. Unseen by Harry, Draco raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"Or we could just make it open to everyone." offered Jason Samuels. "There wouldn't be as much of a team mentality if anyone who wants to make a team could just make a team."

"That would be way too many teams. Everyone in the entire school would want to play." Zacharias protested.

"Well what's wrong with that?" asked Harry. "That's supposed to be the whole theme of this year: inclusion. And yeah, it would be a lot of teams, but that just means more Quidditch."

"And we could have school-wide events, like a meeting where people try to talk players into being on their team, and maybe a dance like during the Tri Wizard tournament. It could help school morale." Jason said, excitement bubbling up in his expression.

"You've been awfully quiet, Malfoy." Madam Hooch pointed out. She turned suddenly toward him, and Malfoy looked up at her in surprise. "What's your opinion?"

Draco rubbed his hand to one of his temples, obviously uncomfortable with the sudden shift in attention. His eyes traveled back to the ground before he opened his mouth to speak.

"I agree, with what Harry said, with the inclusion, and everything." he said awkwardly, anxious for the focus to be turned away from him.

"I do as well." Madam Hooch admitted triumphantly. "I'll run it past the Headmistress, but something tells me she'll jump at an idea like this. Back to your studies, then!" She ordered with a snap of her fingers.

Jason began an excited conversation with Zacharias as they walked back toward the castle, but Zacharias seemed less than enthused with how the meeting had progressed. Malfoy made no movement back towards the castle, but instead looked up to Harry, as if about to speak. Harry took a step toward him to hear what he had to say before Madam Hooch stepped between them, oblivious to the fact that she was cutting them off.

"So you really support this crazy idea, Potter? Getting rid of the houses?" Madam Hooch asked. It was a loaded question, and Harry didn't particularly feel like answering. Unfortunately, he saw no alternative as Malfoy began to walk away.

"Yeah, I support it." he said distractedly.

"That surprises me. I always thought of you as a committed Gryffindor man." she said.

"Mm hmm." he responded. Despite Harry's refusal to give more than one word answers, his conversation with Madam Hooch lingered on, even as Malfoy's figure faded away.

By the time Harry returned to the castle, it was nearly six thirty. He had promised to meet Ginny for a walk at seven, so he decided to wait in his common room until it was time to meet up with her. He felt slightly aggravated as he marched up the tight staircase to dormitory three. After Malfoy's peculiar statement after Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry had been determined to find out what was wrong with him. Because of Madam Hooch, he had missed what might have been his only opportunity to find out.

But, as luck would have it, Harry entered the common room to find the blonde haired former Slytherin lounging by himself on one of the couches, flipping through a wrinkled old book. Malfoy looked up when he entered, and the expression in his eyes didn't show any sign of anger. Harry decided he wasn't pressing his luck by sitting on the adjacent couch.

"Quidditch." Malfoy breathed, not looking up from his book.

"Yeah." Harry sighed, stretching his back and sinking into the couch.

"Are you going to make a team?" Malfoy asked, still refusing to look up from his book. It wasn't until this moment, with the image of Madam Hooch's cat-like eyes twinkling with the promise of Harry's Quidditch prowess still fresh in his thoughts, did he realize the startling truth: he honestly had no desire to play Quidditch this year. Once again, his apathy was getting the better of his pledge for indulgence.

"I don't think so." Harry said nonchalantly. "What about you?"

"Wasn't planning on it." He answered, turning a page.

"I thought you loved Quidditch." Harry said, remembering the boasting Malfoy had done in their youth of racing muggle helicopters on his broomstick.

"I thought _you_ loved Quidditch." he countered.

"I did." Harry admitted. "But, you know." His last words hadn't meant to hold any real meaning, just a few throw-aways when he couldn't think of anything else to say. But Malfoy made it clear that he took what he said as completely seriously as he looked up for the first time in the conversation to meet Harry's gaze.

"I do know." he said earnestly. And Harry found that he believed him. Of everyone he had spoken to in the last few months, he knew that Malfoy was the first who fully understood what he meant. They stared at each other for a moment before they both decided it was time to look away. The two remained silent and it became obvious that their conversation had closed. Harry considered whether he should go looking for Ginny early, but when he found it difficult to gather the will power to get up from the couch, he decided to just close his eyes briefly and wait a bit longer.

With a small jolt, Harry's eyes opened to the dark, desolate common room. His muscles voiced their complaints about the unyielding couch he had apparently dozed off on. Realization seeped past his sleep addled thoughts, and a cold wave of guilt krept down his back.

He had completely forgotten to meet up with Ginny.

Judging by the star strewn sky twinkling at him from behind the windows, he had long missed their rendezvous. He groaned quietly at the idea of how much hell he was going to get tomorrow. His thoughts wandered over towards the stairs, thinking of his comfortable bed. But as his eyes focused through the musty darkness, he recognized another figure sleeping on the couch opposite him. Open book splayed across his chest, Malfoy slumbered motionlessly across from him. At this realization, Harry decided there wasn't any real point in heading upstairs, and instead nestled back into the couch.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Happy Harry Potter's birthday! I spent the day writing this fic, so it was pretty fitting! I finally figured out how to insert some horizontal lines in here, so hopefully things will flow a little more smoothly._

The rules were, in fact, not-so-simple. The creation of this year's Quidditch teams had been designed to take place in three major steps. To start everything out, each team needed two founding members to register with Madam Hooch, and the complications snow balled from there. But the announcement was there for everyone to see. Quidditch had finally returned to Hogwarts.

A dense throng of prattling students had materialized, all of them still garbed in their nighties, in the center of the common room that next morning. Having spent the previous night on the slightly less than comfortable common room couch, Harry was stirred awake by the early morning commotion. Harry's glasses had found their way onto the floor beside him, and once slipped back onto his face he was able to ascertain the word "Quidditch" scrawled atop a large purple notice that had been posted to the wall. Also discernible was the empty couch sitting across from him. Apparently Malfoy had trotted off at some point before Harry had woken.

He rubbed his eyes in a futile gesture to wake up and gathered the propulsion to lift himself from the low bearing couch. With another swift glance over the congregation, he headed away in the direction of the showers.

* * *

"But we have to make a team. You're ruining the plan!" whined Ron between formidable bites of scrambled eggs.

"What plan?" Harry asked.

"The plan where we make the greatest Quidditch team in Hogwarts history."

"Ah, that plan." Harry remarked sarcastically, pulling a piece of toast onto his own plate.

"Yes that plan! Ginny's going to be on our team, too." Ron declared as Ginny and Hermione sat down across from them.

"I am not." stated Ginny, creating a look of bitter astonishment from her brother.

"Of course you are! Who else would you want to be on a team with?"

"Hermione and I are making our own team." Ginny said matter-of-factly. Ron let out a hefty guffaw at this idea.

"Hermione's going to play Quidditch?" he clarified between laughs. Even Harry couldn't help but to chuckle at the image of Hermione dodging bludgers. But Hermione's fierce scowl wiped any remaining mirth from his face.

"I'm the team manager." She explained, obviously stung by Ron's outburst.

"See Harry! We _have_ to beat them. You need to play!" Ron rationalized. Harry pursed his lips and swilled his drink at the idea of letting Ron down.

"I'm just – I'm just not in the mood to have people idolize me." he admitted with a twinge of embarrassment. In truth, the idea of conquering other teams to prove his own superiority had formed a thick knot of anxiety in Harry's chest.

"That's bullocks, that is." said Ron.

"It Harry doesn't want to play, he doesn't have to." said Ginny, lifting her cup of pumpkin juice in a toast to Harry. "Indulgence." She reminded him with a playful wink. Harry allowed himself a smile and clanked his cup against hers.

"Can I be on your team?" Ron asked of Hermione, switching tactics.

"No." she said triumphantly. "Girls only. We're called the Lady Macbeths."

"That's a stupid name." Ron declared nastily.

"It is _not_ a stupid name." Hermione countered. The day had scarcely begun and they were already arguing.

"Lady Macbeths?" Ron repeated. "That hardly rolls of the tongue."

"Well that's not the only thing that won't be rolling off your tongue." Hermione snapped. Harry and Ginny both laughed at the uncharacteristically sharp insult. Knowing he was defeated, Ron began to sheepishly eat his breakfast. Harry turned to Ginny to relinquish the icy silence.

"Promise you'll include more than just Gryffindors?" Harry asked of her. Ginny nodded just as Ron turned excitedly toward Harry.

"That's the idea! We can make a team as a truce between houses. You know, we'll include Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs." Ron said.

"And Slytherins." Harry pointed out.

"And Slytherins." agreed Ron. "We'll just show everyone what you can achieve when we work together. We'll be a symbol of good-will!' he exclaimed, getting overly preachy in his delivery. Surprisingly, the anxiety in Harry's chest began to alleviate at the idea. In it's place came a long forgotten, tingling sensation of excitement that had been foreign to him for so long.

"Yeah, maybe." Harry admitted lightly. Ron took this as a victory and threw his hands into the air. Harry took another swig of pumpkin juice before getting up. "I'm heading to class." he said, deciding to be early to potions. Ginny raced after him as he exited the Great Hall. She grabbed his wrist delicately, causing him to turn around and face her. Her face was wrought with the desire to say something and yet she remained silent.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked. Ginny shook her head as a timid smile graced her lips.

"You actually want to play Quidditch?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

"I'm glad." she said, softly kissing him. He gave her one last smile before continuing on to potions.

* * *

When Ron came up with the team name _Team Patronum,_ Harry found himself fully committed to the idea. Throughout the castle, tentative teams began forming and registering with Madam Hooch. Some were merely groups of second years who were anxious to fly with their friends, others were ambitious athletes with dreams of crushing their competition. Just over a week later, the second step in the team creation process began.

A "team fair" was organized in the Great Hall on a Saturday morning, and small booths started popping up in place of the long dining tables. The workmanship of each booth varied. Some were hastily decorated with scant resources that were gathered at the last second, i.e. the Team Patronum booth, while others sported glittering streamers and enchanted signs. Due to Hermione's spellwork, the Lady Macbeth's booth proved to be the latter. The Great Hall was thoroughly packed with potential players. Each booth put their skills in charisma to the test as they attempted to lobby players to their team. Professor McGonagall and a handful of other teachers stood in front of the staff table, watching over the event with content smiles. It was heartwarming to watch so many students getting on with one another.

Ginny and Hermione's flashy booth was drawing an imposing crowd, leaving both girls with smug expressions at their apparent success. Despite the modesty of Team Patronum's booth, Harry and Ron's combined celebrity kept potential players interested. In fact, Romilda Vane and a few members of her posse had taken permanent residence beside their booth to sing Team Patronum's praises to anyone who was interested. Apparently her infatuation with Harry had survived the war along with her.

Across the row, an ominous black booth sucked the joviality of all who approached it with an uncanny resemblance to a dementor. It was captained by Terence Higgs and Tracey Davis, two wicked looking former members of the Slytherin Quidditch team. They had titled their new team _The Basilisks_.

"Not very subtle, are they?" asked Harry distractedly, watching Tracey as she sneered at a group of passing first years. Ron looked toward the booth with what appeared to be restrained fear, before turning back to a tall blonde girl Harry recognized from the Hufflepuff team.

"We'll see you at the trials, then?" Ron asked. The girl gave him a friendly smile before being pulled away by her friends.

"I hope Hermione doesn't nab her for the Lady Macbeths. She's a brilliant beater." Ron noted.

"We still haven't talked to any Slytherins." Harry pointed out.

"They're all at the Basilisk booth. By all means, go over there an talk to a few." Ron offered. Harry didn't even consider the idea as he watched the bulky crowd of aggressive looking Slytherins wax and wane in front of the booth. A small group worked their way to the front of the crowd to speak with Terence, and when Harry recognized them as Blaise, Pansy, and Malfoy, he quickly diverted his gaze elsewhere.

"You planning on playing for us, Malfoy?" asked Terrance, brandishing an unsettling glint in his eyes. Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

"I was planning on sitting this one out." he said, turning to look out over the rest of the fair. Terrance began a well-rehearsed sales pitch to change Draco's mind, but Draco didn't catch a word of it through the surprise he felt at seeing Potter standing behind his own booth with Weasley. Apparently Potter had changed his mind about playing Quidditch, and Draco slowly realized that he was happy for him.

* * *

The team fair had been quite a success. Except for a brief stint of rowdiness from the Team Basilisk crowd that was quickly quelled by Professor McGonogall, everything had gone smoothly. The event had only further fueled the fervent excitement that was building for the following morning, and the third step in creating the teams. On the first misty morning in September, hordes of adorned Quidditch players traipsed across the grounds to the pitch to attend what would be the most large and complicated Quidditch trials ever held at Hogwarts.

As each player entered the pitch, they were met by a series of tables with forms to fill out. Each required them to list their preferred teams to be drafted to. At the end of the day, each pair of team leaders would fill out similar paperwork, listing their preferred players. If preferences lined up, a player would be easily drafted to a team.

Harry and Ron, like the other team founders, had been bequeathed a spot in the stands to overlook the scrimmaging players. They took detailed notes of the players as they zoomed by, paying careful attention to their favorites. A rudimentary list had been forming, with names Harry vaguely recognized. The list was diverse, but Harry realized it was failing one of his specifications.

"There aren't any Slytherins on this list." Harry said.

"Well all the Slytherins are rubbish." Ron protested. "The only good ones have been batting eyelashes at the Basilisks all day. If you make us draft one of Slytherins that's left over, it's going to drag the whole team down." Ron said. Harry rubbed his hands over his face in deliberation.

"I know who we need." Harry leapt from his seat and began tearing through the stands. "How much time do we have left?" he called back to Ron.

"Thirty minutes!" Ron responded. Harry quickened his pace.

The grounds flashed past him as he darted up the castle steps. He didn't have time to go searching through the castle, so he needed to find him on his first try. His gut feeling lead his flight up the taxing steps to dormitory three. Thrashing wildly through the entrance, Harry panted feverishly in the middle of the common room, staring at Malfoy. Malfoy looked up from his book in mild confusion.

"I don't have time to explain, but I need you to fly." Harry panted. Draco stared at him, confusion heightening.

* * *

Moments later, the two came crashing onto the pitch, Draco's nimbus two thousand and one clasped in between his palms. Madam Hooch attempted to pushed paperwork into Draco's unwieldy hands, but Harry pushed it away.

"He'll fill them out later. There's only ten minutes left." Harry remarked.

"You want me to try out for Quidditch at the last second?" Malfoy clarified, the situation beginning to make sense to him. It should have clicked earlier, but a part of Draco had assumed that Harry was dragging him into some magical emergency. He turned to Harry, a familiar snarl twisting at his lips. The sight frightened Harry, making him realize that he might have finally gone too far. All the same, he had to keep trying.

"Please." Was all Harry could say as the exhaustion from sprinting up and down the castle wracked his body. Draco watched as Potter's eyes plead with him through sweat and desperation.

Without saying a word, Draco threw his leg over his broom and kicked off from the ground.


End file.
